anything makes her smile -- I know, I've seen it before

demiurgent did an interesting little riff today on what he identifies as "best of" lists, and what I think of in my head as Top 5s. (I think of them as Top 5s because I'm a little obsessed with High Fidelity, and that particular Nick Hornby-ism has worked its way into my brain and my soul.) I call the piece a riff because its got a relatively direct, uncomplicated theme and clocks in at under 2,000 words. For me, 2,000 unified words would be a triumph. For Eric, that's a riff.

And it occurred to me, not for the first time, that I'm really bad at that sort of listmaking. I'm really bad at picking things that are my favorites. Which is odd, because (let's face facts) I'm a geek. And Top 5s seem to me a fairly ubiquitous unit of geek culture. Most other geek-people I know can, with a little bit of thought, give you their Top 5 Hot Redheaded Actresses, or their Top 5 Pre-2000 SciFi Films. At least, that's my impression. But I've always been terrifically bad at it. If pressed I can usually come up with something, in twice the length of time it takes everyone else. But it always leaves me feeling unsatisfied. I always have a vague and unsettling feeling that I've left something important out, and I often have the sense that I've been forced to make a value judgment where none is really possible. That I've compared apples to oranges, and I'm unhappy about it.

I ran across a classic example of this just the other night, when I was hanging out with Stephie K during our abortive attempt to see the Rent movie. We bumped into a friend of hers at the Virgin megastore, an employee on his dinner break. We chatted for a short while, and this fellow and I (whose name I do not recall, because I am bad with names) seemed to hit it off pretty well. Mostly we bonded over ridiculing Stephie. And at one point, in the natural flow of conversation, we were discussing writing and literature and other important things. And he asked me, seemingly innocuously, what I would say my all-time favorite screenplay was.

My stomach gurgled nervously. I furrowed my brow, suddenly aware of an uncomfortable warmth and sweatiness I had not felt a moment before.

"Usually I tell people my favorite movie is the Shawshank Redemption," I offered, after what seemed like an agonizingly long and uncomfortable silence. Pathetic, I thought to myself. I can't even really decide on a favorite movie -- I've just got something I tell people is my favorite.

We were both unsatisfied with my response, and in a perfectly friendly manner this fellow clarified that I hadn't actually answered his question. I felt like I was being interrogated, as though minutes or even hours had passed during which I hadn't said a word. "I dunno," I began awkwardly, shifting in my seat. "Maybe... Adaptation?" This seemed to satisfy him, and the conversation mercifully moved on.

I was lying, of course. Adaptation isn't my all-time favorite screenplay. Mind you, I have no idea what my all-time favorite screenplay actually is. My mind isn't built for that sort of analysis, and is capable of that sort of comparative judgment only under the greatest duress. So for future reference, if you ever ask me which is better, X or Y, and I stare at you in blank horror as if you've just confessed to compulsively mutilating puppies... that's why.

and make tomorrow harder to live than today

(I'm not going to complain about LJ being wonky. Yes, everyone's getting belated e-mail notifications as the backlog that was created by the server migration works itself out. Yes, most people have reported friends pages which are improperly synched today. Blah blah blah.)

One of the truly random upshots of working for Liberty Mutual is that the company obsession with ESPN.com is starting to rub off on me. This isn't reflected in an actual increased interest in sports, mind you, but I am slowly starting to gain respect for some of the columnists. Among my favorites is Bill "the Sports Guy" Simmons, who's dicussion in a recent column of the Real World Austin Reunion show produced the following gem:

"(By the way, Danny is the fourth Real World cast member with a horrible Boston accent, a hair-trigger temper and an IQ of 45, yet they refuse to put the female equivalent on the show -- the gum-snapping, frizzy-haired chick from Saugus who still wears Bourque jerseys and Jordache jeans; dates a guy who's failed the state trooper test four times and now is allegedly making six figures selling real estate; says stuff like, 'I'm not nearly as much of a slut as I used to be'; brags about winning two grand at Wonderland once; claims she once made out with Derek Lowe; and flips out if you mistakenly think she's from Revere. Why hasn't that girl been cast on the show yet? Thirteen years and counting and that demo hasn't been tapped once?)"

Oh, Boston.